Of Butterflies
by link no miko
Summary: Because what one person finds beautiful, another can find ugly. A lesson Chouji learns about life and the nature of people.


**Of Butterflies**

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Written as a tribute to Chouji for his birthday (May 1st), even though it's late and all that stuff. But Chouji needs more love than he's given, dangnabbit, so here it is. Him and Asuma both need more screentime, so sayeth I!

One shot, written in about an hour/hour and a half. Not really beta'd, although the lovely Iamzuul gave it a quick once over (her alternative title is "Butterflies Are Pretty and Chouji Is Too," so let's all love her for that because it's grand).

Probably AU, and if this clashes with anything canon, uh...just go with it? This is pre-story anyway, and is definitely before Asuma knows which genin team he's gonna have. Hurray for coinkidinks.

As always, comments and criticisms are welcome.

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Chouji, like all good Akimichi throughout the history of his clan, liked food. Because of this inherent affinity, he was what one could call chubby, or large. Or, as the other children liked to so nicely put it: fat ass, fatty, and all those other monikers they liked to place on those that don't quite fit into their picture perfect worlds.

And so, on those days when his version of the world and theirs clashed the most, when things seemed down and dark and completely hopeless, Chouji always found himself near the outskirts of Konoha, sitting on a half-rotted fallen log, his short legs a foot from the ground and kicking idly as he stared back into the town he loved, despite everything.

They just don't understand, is what his father always told him on days when he found his son sitting sad and lonely in his room, staring dejectedly at the wall, tiny feet dangling off the bed. And Chouji knew his father was telling the truth, because fathers didn't lie and his father was great and wonderful and loved his son very much.

"It's still hard…" he whispered to the wind, sniffing and rubbing his face with the back of his sleeve.

"Hm, what's this? Talking to yourself?"

Chouji whipped around, succeeding only in falling backwards off the log and landing in a very uncomfortable way on his back, legs in the air. His predicament wasn't helped by the laughter he could hear wafting through the air towards him.

"'s'not funny…"

"'Course it is. You just made my day, kid."

Trying (in vain) to see who was talking, Chouji squirmed helplessly until a shadow covered his view of the blue sky, the adult's face dark as he leaned over the fallen boy. Squinting his eyes and trying to make out the person's features, the boy was surprised when a large hand reached down to grab onto his and hauled him to his feet so fast his head spun. The adult laughed again and placed his hands on Chouji's shoulders to balance him until the Akimichi boy could see straight, which, Chouji thought, was a very kind gesture.

When he could see straight again, the person let go of him and Chouji heard, more than saw, him make his way to the log and sit down. Turning around and hurrying over to his seat as well, the boy stopped in mid stride as he finally caught a look at the man who had helped him up.

He'd seen him around town before, and he'd even seen him talking to his father, but Chouji didn't personally know the man. And for the life of him, he couldn't remember the ninja's name—and he was a ninja, and a Jounin at that—even though he was one of the few men Chouji knew who had facial hair.

The man must have noticed something in Chouji's face because he smirked, lit his cigarette, and then crossed his arms over his chest. "Sarutobi Asuma."

That was it! Chouji smiled at Asuma, his face brightening. "Akimichi Chouji."

"You," the man nodded his head towards the log beside him, indicating to the boy that he sit down, "I know. Think I've been to your house once or twice."

"To talk to Dad, right?" he asked as he scrambled up the log beside Asuma, kicking his feet once he was safe and secure again.

"Yeah. Probably to bum a dinner or two, as well." He smirked and Chouji found himself chuckling. "Never underestimate the power of a good bummed meal."

"Mm," the boy nodded as he began to rock back and forth slightly. A butterfly passing by caught his attention, and he followed the small insect with his eyes, turning his head when it started to go beyond his field of vision.

Asuma lifted an eyebrow as he watched the boy. "You like those?"

Chouji's head whipped around in an instant. "Like what, sir?"

"Good God, why do they always…" The man sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "No need to use 'sir' with me. Makes me feel old."

"Oh. Ok, sir."

Shaking his head and sighing, Asuma pointed in the direction the butterfly had gone. "Butterflies. You like them?"

Chouji looked back quickly to where he'd last seen the insect, but it was gone. "Yeah… They're pretty."

"Heh. I guess they are, at that." He took a long drag on the cigarette, exhaling the smoke in a long chain. "You know, there are a lot of people that don't like butterflies."

"What? Really?"

Asuma nodded, flicking the butt of his cigarette, not really looking at the boy beside him. "Yeah. Think they're ugly, or something."

"But," Chouji said softly, looking back to where the butterfly had disappeared, "they aren't ugly…"

"To you or me, maybe," Asuma said, taking another quick drag of the cigarette, "but to some people they are. Just because they're a bug, some people don't like them."

"That's dumb!" Beside him, the Jounin raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised at the small boy's outburst. "That's really dumb, thinking that just because they don't like insects!"

"Well, that's the way people are." One last drag, and then the cigarette was on the ground and beneath Asuma's heel as the man stood. He stretched and cracked his neck, then turned back to Chouji, a look the boy couldn't quite understand on his face. "People make decisions like that all the time. It's just the way they are. Your dad's said that before, hasn't he?"

Chouji nodded, eyes on the ground until Asuma ruffled his hair and nearly knocked him off the log. "Heeeey!"

"'Hey' nothing, pay attention. You're training to be a shinobi, right?" A nod. "And how old are you now?"

"Seven…"

Asuma shook his head. "Already seven and so easily distracted. Why, when I was your age, I was the best in my class."

Chouji looked up, eyes wide. "Really?"

"No, but I like to think I was." He ruffled Chouji's hair again, but the boy was ready and managed to dodge at the last instant. "There ya go. You're not a bad learner."

"I'm an Akimichi." He puffed out his chest in an attempt to look older than he was.

"Yeah well," Asuma said, smirking, "isn't it about lunch time? I think I can hear your dad's stomach growling from here."

A quick look at the sun and an accompanying grumbling from his own stomach told Chouji just how right Asuma was. With a final glance at the Jounin, the boy hurried back towards town.

Asuma pulled out a cigarette as he watched the boy go, and was just about to light it up when Chouji stopped suddenly and turned around, hurrying back to stand before the Jounin.

"Uh… Home is the other way, isn't it?"

"Thank you!" Chouji's cheeks were red and he had the strangest look on his face, as though he'd just realized something, which Asuma thought was completely implausible because it wasn't like he'd said anything for the boy to interpret. And then, just to add to everything else, the boy bowed.

"Heh." Up went that eyebrow. "You're welcome?"

Chouji beamed at the man, then turned and darted back towards Konoha faster than Asuma thought possible for a boy his size. When Chouji was completely out of view, the man let out a sigh and lit up his cigarette.

"The things I do for kids." Turning around and heading farther away from Konoha, he shook his head and mumbled to himself. "Honestly, what I put up with."

He still smiled, though.


End file.
